The Wild Ones
by DragonViper2.0
Summary: Gandalf takes the Company to the Nypmhs (Primitiv) who bond with animals rather than transform. Rumoured to be dark, twisted cannibalistic creatures better left forgotten. dark humoured and lustful what else deems true? As a neutral force they must choose a side for upcoming wars. Three join the company, clashing twins and another Thorin met long ago. ThorOC FiOC KiTau.


**A/N so far this fic is movie-verse. But starting to read the Hobbit so don't moan at me please! **

**The Wild Ones**

**Prologue  
Temptation**

Rohan was definitely in the middle of Summer, for the sun glared hot and the air was damp and humid. The grass was scarce and dry beneath the feet of the Townsfolk of Hytbold as they entered and left the town, a serene settlement with working people located in the Sutcrofts of Eastern Rohan. This town was small but had a knack for trading goods, so the people that lived here rarely went hungry as they were farmers who were often greeted with Merchants and outside townsfolk as Hytbold grew the best parsnips, potatoes and carrots in all Rohan and the finest weapons were being forged in their smiths and had been for over two months now since Thorin Oakenshield, an uncrowned King Under the Mountain had taken up work as a blacksmith. Hytbold's buildings were made of large grey stone bricks with red tile roofs faded and slightly cracked with age. The streets and roads through the town were stone slabs not cobble stone to make it easier for trade.

The air inside the blacksmith was dank and thick, most found it difficult to breathe even though there was very little wall on the street side on the ground floor, the first floor held up by thick wooden pillars that continued along the ceiling as strong beams turned to more thick pillars throughout the smith level of the building. The first floor was the shop itself, that had stairs leading up to it from the side of the building and they were the only way to get upstairs to the first and second floor- the first floor sold all kinds of items, from weapons to jewellery to horseshoes and had become wildly popular since Thorin began crafting the weapons while the second floor was living space which Thorin had been granted stay there by Ruine, the owner of the smith who also slept on the second floor.

The metal ringed and burned orange as Thorin repeatedly hit and worked the blade as he should, and would till it was done. He paused his metal beating when he heard a soft, whistling of a bird's song, but the culprit was no bird. He looked over his shoulder but had to turn slightly as his long black hair blocked half his vision. A strange sight greeted him, a woman strolled in from the street clad in dark orange-brown trousers, large metal boots going up her thigh in a sharp point with basic shape patterns and red and blue on the front calf. Her blouse was cream that was tucked under her belt, which was made from the same metal and bore the same patterns as her boots. Her belt went up and turned into a sharp corset that portrayed the appearance of her petite form and her breasts in a snug fit -which then turned into shoulder guards of the same design and Thorin predicted that her armour itself should be used as a weapon, but with great discomfort. A cream, cotton scarf hung around her neck and looked as if it once belonged hiding her face from the world. She pushed down her orange-brown hood on her cloak to reveal her dark wild hair that was kept tamed by a leather ties at three points during her hairs length. Thorin caught sight of a long bow resting on her back. Beside her stood a proud animal, Thorin thought it looked like a large cat whose back stood taller than her companion's waist, the beast's fur was grey with a white underbelly with and black and dark grey spots decorating her with ever watching golden-hazel eyes that never seemed to leave Thorin. The woman's whistling seized.

But the beast looked docile enough so Thorin addressed the beast's master, who, he then noticed was smaller than he was. He noticed the weapons she held in her hands, two sheathed swords of strange shapes and designs, "yes?" was all he could gruff as he looked down into her eyes, whose colour matched that of the beast's beside her, like a wild animal. He was stricken back by such eyes belonging onto a creature such as her but he did not show nor question it. Though he did wonder what race she hailed from, for she was not a dwarf nor a hobbit. Though her ears were pointed which stirred anger and hatred in his belly but she was far too small for an elf, and skin too sun kissed.

"You are blacksmith Thorin?" she asked quizzically, her accent was strong and her words were slow, she also missed out minor words that would form a perfect sentence. Thorin guessed the common tongue was not overly used where she hails from and that she is still in the process of learning the language.

Thorin put down his smithing hammer he spoke, "I am he, yes. What of it?" his deep voice cracked, it was dry and coarse for he had not had a drink of water in a good while and he was already sweating through his dull, clue cotton shirt and even with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows he felt as he were at feverish levels due to the hot summers day and the roaring fires of the smith. That, plus Thorin had not slept at all the night gone as when he tried he dreamt of Erebor on the anniversary of its destruction which also had him agitated. So today, he was easily annoyed and quick to temper, though he tried hard to keep that locked up regardless.

The smaller woman took a step forward, bringing up her hands that were occupied by her two strange blades, "can you fix them, please?"

Thorin furrowed his brow, "ask Ruine upstairs, I'm busy," he scoffed, he picked back up his hammer and got back to work, hoping the foreign woman would leave him in peace.

" I do not trust tall man with my swords, they do not care," the woman came further into the smiths and stood beside him, her swords held against her bosom - her beast companion remained where she was, unmoving but no less watching very carefully. "They are very special to me. They are old and seen much turmoil, I pay good coin." Thorin was wrong about her still learning the language but it was still very apparent that another language, one he has not heard would flow more naturally from her tongue. His expression softened as he glanced at her more closely, the burning light lit the left side of her face in a golden hue and cast dark shadows, he could smell her fragrance despite the heavy scent of the smith, it was not flowers she smelt of which was ordinary among women, but instead she smelled sweet like honey but there was a lingering smell of grass and the wilderness which is common among those who travel constantly. Her animal like eyes reflecting the flame with an almost begging expression. Her face was smooth and slightly tanned with light freckles, charcoal lined her eyes and there were three black dots under her right eye also from charcoal. The bridge of her nose curved down and lifted up to the tip which was rounded, not pointed. Her lips had sharp points but also soft edges and they were full and plush with unspoken whispers of lustful promises that put men under her spell. She truly was beautiful, but Thorin was not so easily succumbed to beauty and desire.

Thorin dropped the orange hot sword into a barrel of cold water and it's hiss stung the air as steam rose from the barrel. He put down the hammer and put his thick hand around the swords. "Come back in the morning, they'll be ready for you," he sighed as he didn't have the energy to be stubborn. She released her blades and he took them, he placed them down on the table beside them.

"Thank you! Mighty and kind dwarf! Poate Vairé vă păstrați puternic, Thorin Oakenshield," she had touched his dirty, sweat forehead with two fingers when she spoke in another language before she placed a chaste kiss on his rough cheek with a grin that revealed her white teeth and he noticed she had two sets of sharp canines though the rest if her teeth looked normal though there were a couple a little crooked as if they had been damaged in a fight. Without another word she left, her beast following after her and Thorin stood there in dumbfounded silence watching the street before him.

Thorin spent many more hours in the smith working on her swords and once they were finished he realised that the sun had set and he must of accidently ignored Ruine when he came down to pull Thorin away for an ale in the tavern as they did most nights after a hard day of work. Thorin put her swords in the barrel of water and his prickled at the hissing sound. Once he was able he placed the swords back in their sheaths and took them, along with all the other weapons he had worked in including the smithing hammer upstairs so no one can steal them.

Once the weapons were safely stored Thorin locked the first floor door and headed to the tavern, where he guessed Ruine already was. Thorin entered the tavern in the same soot and sweat covered clothes he had been in all day, no doubt he stunk of the stuff but right now all he wanted was a meal and a pint of ale to wash it down. There was a commotion in the tavern, which was a rarity as most nights were quiet with tired men finished working for the day drinking their fill - however today, the crowd seemed more energetic and there was music playing and people were singing loudly and laughing as the woman from earlier on today was dancing on a table around her feline beast companion with an empty bottle of wine in her hand. Thorin raised his brows and with a slight smile he shook his head at the amusing sight as he made his way to the bar.

Ruine appeared beside him and clasped a hand on his shoulder, "I wasn't expecting this," he chuckled. Ruine was a typical Rohirrim man, standing at almost six foot talk with wide shoulders and heavy arms from years of smithing. His dirty blonde hair was kept tied back out of his face and his eyes were green like oak leaves, he bore a board nose and a strong jaw coated in blonde hair that he cut close to his face whenever he felt like it. He was an honourable man that held his morals and beliefs close to his heart which Thorin admired about the man, since he was the same. Ruine was a man nearing his thirties who was yet to marry, though he had his eye on one of the waitresses at the very same tavern. "She's been at this for hours, dancing with folk, celebrating some kind of holiday apparently, none that I can think of. Poorly I might add, she's not a very good dancer, even when sober!" he laughed but seized when he saw Thorin not even crack a smile as he drank his ale that just arrived. Ruine hit him on the back again, causing ale to spill over the top Thorin's mug which resulted in a hard glare, "cheer up laddie! No need to be so somber! Join in the celebrations even though we don't know what today is!" after that Ruine lifted his cup and cheered along with everyone else when the woman called something out in a language no one understood.

"Today is the anniversary of Erebor, there should be no celebrations," he growled his grip tightened on his mug.

Ruine heard and swallowed, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder, "I understand now ..." he was talking about Thorin's behaviour for the last few days as he had been irritable and angry with hatred burning in his eyes. "One day...one day you and your kin will take back Erebor and I'll help..."

"Too slay a dragon..." Thorin smirked a little and went along with Ruine, as they had done this before and had become a little joke to them.

"...And mount his terrible head above your fireplace!" Ruine laughed at Thorin's half smile into his mug of ale. With one last firm hit on Thorin's back and another glare Ruine said, "well, I'm going to find Sallie, I'll see you later at home," Thorin said his farewell but didn't watch his friend disappear into the boisterous crowd in search for his love but instead starred into the surface of his ale.

It didn't take long till another had joined him, this person smelled familiar though now with added wine. There the woman was next to him ordering another bottle of wine as she pushed over her empty bottle. She was heel tapping as she waited and she was biting her lip anxiously and there he saw them again, her two right canines - so he hadn't imagined them then. "What are you?" Thorin asks bluntly as the woman received her bottle but ignored the goblet given. Thorin could only admit truly to himself that he was curious to discover the mystery of her race and homeland.

"That, Thorin Oakenshield is for me too know, and for you too possibly find out later," she tapped her small nose with her index finger as she seductively whispered her response to him, brushing his black hair away from his face and taking the opportunity to tenderly stroke his cheek. Once she was done whispering she had winked and begun to leave.

Thorin watched her, she moved gracefully like the feline beside her, her walk emphasised the movements of her hips and he felt his manhood stir in his breeches when he saw her left hand travel smoothly down the side of her torso and onto her back, her hand promised unimaginable pleasures, Thorin stood and spoke to her again before she got too far, "what is your name?" his voice sounded more urgent, like he needed to know rather than wanted. He had a sudden urge to touch her all over, to hold her, to kiss her, to enter her. He had no idea why these urges were suddenly flooding him, but his mind was clouded and his sense dulled. He had to know more about her. He had to have her.

The woman stopped and turned to face him, her back was straight and her feline grace remained, before Thorin knew he had left his place at the bar and was only a yard from the woman he so desired. "You know my name, it is only fair-" he started, his voice was lowered and darkened by lust.

"It would be dangerous for me to reveal my name here..." she began to walk backwards through the crowd, beckoning him to follow which he did regardless.

The next minutes were a blur till a slammed door brought him back to the real world, the feline beast was no one to be seen so she must be outside the door. Small, tender hands were upon him, touching him under his sweat soaked shirt but he did not pull away. Instead with passion he kissed the mouth of honey.

**A/N Her accent sounds like Tali'Zorah's from Mass Effect, which I love and discovered is a South Romanian accent, so I decided the language spoken by her kind will be Romanian. Translations are from Google Translate so if they're wrong don't blame me! Blame Google! As I am not very talented with other languages. **

**This story and my Game of Thrones story will be my only active ones as I really enjoy the GoT one and I can see I'm going to enjoy this one too, but since I work and am at University my free time to write is sparse so you'll have to patient with me! If you like GoT check my other fic out as well, I think it's pretty cool. Well, for now folks, its 6.15am so I better get some sleep! See you soon!**

**Translations: **

**Poate Vairé vă păstrați puternic, Thorin Oakenshield - May Vairë keep you strong, Thorin Oakenshield.**


End file.
